


From Above

by altairattorney



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Pacifist Route, Waterfall (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as a place lives, it is still capable of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Above

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for this fandom ahoy!

Moss occupies the lower sides of the carvings. Too dark to see, but definitely there. The humid smell of rain betrays its presence, if Frisk gets too close to the wall and tries to read.

It isn’t, of course, the only sign of life. It could not be. Wherever water flows, things prosper – never mind that the sun does not shine, other beings can always do it in its stead. The winding caves are cradle and home to countless springs of light, which imbue the air with a soft blue colour.

The past those words revive is bleak and hopeless. To Frisk, however, this place is not.

Their home is elsewhere. It used to be, at least; maybe it will never be again. In a way, they can relate to the resignation of this kind – to live in the shadows so long, they suppose, must get to one’s hope in the end. But if they walk along the river, lulled by the waves of sound and bioluminescence, the sense of peace almost rivals their dread for what is to come.

They choose to stay a little bit longer.

Frisk returns to the flower fields, a cup in their hand and fresh provisions on their back. They remain for a while, dipping their fingers in the ice-cold current. In a world where they barely stand any chance to live, it is comforting to discover they still have sensation.

Might as well enjoy it. Why not try?

Frisk can afford it, they realize. Frisk knows what risking one’s life means. The dwellers of the caves are much farther from death than they believe –  the echo flowers all around, swaying in the subterranean breeze, are there to prove it.

They sing to each other, relentlessly, until their voices die out in nothingness. Echo flowers have a bitter irony. Still, if no one had anything to wish for, they would be silent.

An angel from the surface. So they said. Are they really through with hoping? 

It is hard to believe, looking at this – they cannot give in to the idea. Not when the echo flowers, despite their inner chaos, fall back in tune as one. Not if the water keeps flowing, shining its light on the plaques of an ancient tale, so that their history can be read. 

The underground is brimming with music, dreams and quiet life. It is alive. As long as a place lives, it is still capable of waiting. 

Something is awakening, in fact. It shows in the words the monsters speak. Something which boils and overflows, which propagates in haste, as far from death as it can be. 

Frisk wonders if their ending up here now is a coincidence.


End file.
